


Night Night

by Lalalli



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: But I let it stay 'cause I'm a gracious host, Comedy, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, Humour, I have no idea how it got in there, It just sort of snuck its way in, Light Angst, No SHIELD, Secret Identities, Superpowers, get your mind out of the gutter, like just a pinch, not THAT kind of happy ending, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5809711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalalli/pseuds/Lalalli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lab accident gives Fitz dendrotoxin-like superpowers.  He tries to keep it a secret.  He is not successful.  </p><p>---------------------------------</p><p>"When the opportunity presented itself and he entered the lobby, he didn't bother saying anything at all. (He'd like to think it's because he's efficient and mysterious, but really it's 47% because of his hypoxia and 53% because he was still out of breath from his run over.)  All he did was hold out both hands, aiming one palm at each robber, and let out twin blue energy pulses.  Both robbers immediately collapsed to the ground, unconscious.</p><p>Fitz lowered his arms.  "Night night," he whispered."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fitz felt bad about leaving the restaurant without saying goodbye. He really did. But Jemma was in the bathroom and he had no idea when she would return to their table and when the police scanner app on his phone alerted him to the hostage situation occurring at the bank five blocks away, he knew he had to leave immediately because it wasn't like he had super speed or a Batmobile or anything.

He ducked into the alley right outside the restaurant and, after checking to make sure that the coast was clear, quickly stripped out of his shirt and trousers, revealing his tights underneath (a repurposed Captain America Halloween costume with fake muscle padding removed), and pulled his mask onto his head.

When Fitz arrived at the bank 3.79 minutes later (a new record!), the police were still outside with their bullhorns, trying to negotiate with the robbers inside into releasing the hostages. Using a MouseHole, Fitz snuck in through the back undetected and quickly scanned the room, trying to determine the best course of action. When the opportunity presented itself and he entered the lobby, he didn't bother saying anything at all.

(He'd like to think it's because he's efficient and mysterious, but really it's 47% because of his hypoxia and 53% because he was still out of breath from his run over.)

All he did was hold out both hands, aiming one palm at each robber, and let out twin blue energy pulses. Both robbers immediately collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Fitz lowered his arms. "Night night," he whispered.

\-----------------------------------

Fitz saw Jemma standing caddy-corner to him when he escorted the hostages outside and into the sunlight. It was strange, her being there, because the bank wasn't on their usual route back to the lab. She carried a brown paper bag, no doubt filled with the contents of the lunch he abandoned.

He's struck again by just how beautiful she is, skirt swaying in the breeze, stray strands of hair glowing bronze in the sunlight and blowing across her face. He didn't realize he was staring at her until he noticed that she was staring at him, too.

A police car passed between them. She turned and walked away.

\-------------------------------

"I put your lunch in the fridge," Jemma greeted Fitz when he returned to the lab.

"Thanks," he mumbled. He dropped his backpack under his lab bench and shrugged back into his lab coat.

"Where'd you disappear to?" Jemma asked casually, her head still bent over the microscope.

Fitz really shouldn't have been caught off guard - after all, he had the entire walk back to the lab to prepare his excuse. Except that she hadn't asked in a couple of weeks and he thought she'd just filed away his constant disappearances as yet another change to his personality since the accident, to be ignored and dismissed as inconsequential.

"Uh. Um. Hunter's," he lied. "Emergency."

"What kind?" she asked.

"Car trouble."

She straightened and turned to face him. "Did you figure out the problem?"

Fitz reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. I think so."

Jemma crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head. "What was it?"

"Um. It was the." Fitz snapped his fingers, hoping that she would attribute his halted words to his hypoxia and jump in to finish the sentence for him. Instead, she just stood and waited, looking at him with a curious expression on her face. It occurred to Fitz that he couldn't remember the last time she had tried speak for him. He stopped snapping and studied her. This was what he wanted for so long, for her to stop trying to finish his sentences as though he were incapable, but now that she had, it felt an awful lot like she pulling away from him.

Jemma gave him a tentative smile. "Well," she said. "Don't worry. I'm sure the word will come to you." She turned back to her microscope. "Did you see all the police around the bank?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Uh. No. I took a different route to Hunter's."

Jemma switched out the slides in her microscope. "Night Night Man was there. I saw him."

Fitz swallowed nervously. "Did you, now?"

"Mmhmm." She picked up her clipboard and scribbled down some notes. "You know, for someone who calls himself Night Night Man, he sure does spend a lot of time running around in broad daylight."

"I think his name is in reference to his powers," Fitz muttered, trying his best not to sound defensive.

"Still," Jemma mused. "It's a ridiculous name, don't you think?"

\------------------------------------------------------------

The lab accident occurred six months ago, but Jemma couldn’t stop thinking about it, probably because the nine days that followed were the longest in Jemma’s life. During those days, she didn’t worry about whether Fitz’s memories would be intact, whether he’d still want to be her best friend, whether he’d still be the same adorably grumpy, compassionate genius she’d grown to admire, respect, and yes, love. The only thing she wanted was for him to make it through.

When Fitz awoke, she was so relieved that she almost didn’t mind that he nearly immediately started running around the city in a mask and tights, trying to save people.

 _Almost_ being the operative word.

It was farcical, Fitz thinking he could ever keep a secret from her. Not only was Jemma a literal genius with one more Ph.D. than him, but she knew him better than anybody - always would, no matter how many superpowers he gained...or muscles he developed. She fell in love with him before all the muscles, of course - for his brilliance, his kindness, his tenderness, his humor, his heart. But she never realized just how well-formed and symmetrical he was until he started wearing that skin-tight costume, and well, let’s just say that it certainly didn’t hurt.

What did hurt were the sudden disappearances and the flimsy excuses that went along with them, as if she didn’t know exactly where he was going and what he was doing. What hurt was that he didn’t entrust her with this ridiculous secret when they had long ago discovered the deepest, darkest recesses of each other's’ minds and hearts.

She wondered all the time why he didn’t tell her. Was it because she was a terrible liar and might let it slip? Was it because he thought that she wouldn’t approve? Was it because he worried that knowing his secret identity would put her in danger? Whatever the reason, he should’ve known better. She was a grown woman, and just because she didn’t have actual superpowers, didn’t mean that she couldn’t protect herself and protect him.

Which is probably why she followed him around all the time. She’d be damned if she had to sit through another one of his stupid comas.


	2. Chapter 2

Fitz stared at himself in his bathroom mirror and took a deep breath. “I need your help,” he said slowly, evenly, in an American accent.

The nice thing about knowing Jemma so well was being able to anticipate everything she would say. That way, he could prepare, could practice saying everything smoothly, as though he were still okay. He wouldn’t be caught off guard or stumble or stammer, giving himself away. After spending so much time with Jemma, he, too, excelled at preparation.

Fitz knew she would still be working at the lab late on Wednesday, long after everyone else had gone home. Her weekly morning meetings with management always ran long, causing her to spend extra hours in the lab, trying to catch up. So it was easy for him to be there, waiting for her, when she came back from the bistro next door with her salad and evening cup of tea.

Jemma startled when she saw him, tensing and letting out a small gasp. Other than that, though, she didn’t let the unexpectedness or the strangeness of the situation rattle her. She kept her eyes on him from across the room as she calmly set down her dinner and said, with wonder in her voice, “It’s you.”

“I need your help,” Fitz told her, just as he practiced.

Fitz had thought a lot about having this conversation and had anticipated its course and direction. Jemma would ask, “How’d you get in here?” and he would point to the window he had opened and pretend that he had climbed in, even though he had nowhere near the physical aptitude necessary to scale four stories of a building, much less fourteen. And then she would ask, “Why do you need _my_ help?” and he would ask for permission to borrow the prototype they had just developed.

What he didn’t anticipate was Jemma instantly agreeing. “I’ll say. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t come to me sooner.”

“I. Uh. What?” So much for not stammering. Fitz gestured slightly towards the open window, trying to hint at what would be the appropriate question for her to ask next.

Jemma looked at him appraisingly, then gasped in dismay. “Oh! I didn’t realize until seeing you up close like this that your costume is made out of _rayon_. That’s awful! What were you thinking?”

Fitz looked down at the deep blue fabric clinging to his skin. “Is it? I didn’t - I just bought it at the shops.” It was a very lucky coincidence that he developed his powers around Halloween.

Jemma sighed and shook her head. “Honestly, your outfit is dangerously flammable. It’s a good thing you haven’t tried to rescue anyone from burning buildings before now, or else your outfit would have melted into your skin.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, please don’t ever try to rescue anyone from a burning building. Your powers aren’t really applicable in that situation at all, are they? I mean, what are you going to do, knock the fire unconscious?”

“Um.” This was not going the way Fitz had planned _at all_.

Jemma took a few steps towards Fitz and he instinctively took a step back. Jemma paused and raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“I - uh - what? Of course not!” Fitz sputtered.

“Good,” Jemma said, nodding briskly. “Now come here so I can record your measurements. I’ve developed a polymer blend with ten layers of treated composite material that would be perfect for your new costume.”

“New costume?”

Jemma opened a drawer and took out a tangled roll of yellow measuring tape. She looked at him, standing frozen across the room. “Well, come on, now. I don’t bite. You wouldn’t have come to see me if I did, now, would you?”

Fitz slowly and cautiously made his way across the lab. Jemma rolled her eyes. “A bit more quickly, if you please. I don’t have all night.”

Once Fitz was in front of Jemma, she wrapped her arms around his waist and let her fingers trace the length of the measuring tape to the front of his torso. She pinched the two sides of the tape together and recorded the measurement on her clipboard.

Having Jemma this close to him - having her cheek practically pressed against his shoulder as she stretched to loop the tape around his back, having her hair right under his nose as she looked down at the measurements - it gave Fitz a heady rush. He felt off-balance, as if his whole world had taken a tumble through a dryer. Then it occurred to him.

“Don’t you have equipment that can take measurements?” he reminded her.

“Hmm?” Jemma asked distractedly, wrapping the tape way higher up his thigh than he felt comfortable with. “Oh, no. Unfortunately not.”

Jemma was lying, Fitz was shocked to realize. But why?

“Spread your legs, please,” Jemma requested. “I’m afraid this might be a little uncomfortable.” She looped the tape measure between his legs, tracing the tape from his groin to his shoulder.

It was a ridiculous theory - it couldn’t possibly be true - but Fitz was starting to get the distinct impression that Jemma Simmons was trying to feel him up.

Not that Fitz hadn’t fantasized about Jemma feeling him up a million times before, but in his previous fantasies, his nostrils weren’t being squeezed shut under a too-tight mask, nor was he fighting the urge to pick out a wedgie. The lab coat she was wearing, though? That part was the same.

“What should I call you, by the way?” Jemma asked as she measured his chest.

“I go by Night Night Man.”

Jemma gave him a withering look. “I’m sorry, but I refuse to call you that. I’m surprised you can say it with a straight face.”

“It’s a great name!” Fitz protested. It was bad enough that she had vetoed the name for their non-lethal weapon, but now she wanted to veto it for him as well?

“It’s the least intimidating name in the history of superhero names,” Jemma scoffed. “You might as well call yourself Captain Sparkles.”

“You think you can do better?” Fitz retorted.

“Hmmm.” Jemma stood back and planted her hands on her hips, regarding him carefully. “What about Knock Out? It rolls off the tongue a bit more easily, I think.”

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “I like Night Night Man better.”

Jemma threw her hands up in the air, exasperated, then wrapped them behind her neck. “I will never understand your commitment to being wrong!”

They argued like this for hours, not just about his name or the color of his costume, but about science and Doctor Who and whether it would be preferable to have a giraffe neck or an elephant nose. It wasn’t until Fitz arrived at the lab the next morning, sleep-deprived but happier than he had felt in a long time, that he realized that he had forgotten to ask her if he could borrow the prototype.

\-----------------------------

Jemma couldn’t believe it.

She had deliberately baited him, again and again, and he didn’t even flinch. Maybe he was better at this whole alter ego thing than she thought.

What was ironic was that even though he came to see her as Knock Out (she refused to call him Night Night Man), last night was the easiest, most natural conversation she’d had with him since the accident. He barely noticed that he was stuttering; he didn’t shut down or hide his feelings from her. They bickered and joked and talked over each other, just like old times.

Jemma felt so guilty, sometimes, missing the old Fitz when she should just be grateful to have him in her life in any capacity at all. But last night had been proof that her Fitz was still around. He was just hiding from her, for some reason.

“Is that the power surger prototype?” she asked Fitz when she walked into the lab the next morning.

Fitz startled, letting out a nervous squeak.

Jemma raised her eyebrows. “Someone’s jumpy today,” she observed. She gasped when Fitz turned to face her. “Oh, Fitz,” she said sadly, reaching forward to gently graze her fingertips around the edges of his black eye. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Fitz muttered, turning away from her.

“It’s not nothing, Fitz,” Jemma insisted. “Who did this to you?” If she had known he was hiding this under his mask last night, she would have offered to kiss it better...or an ice pack. It would have probably been more appropriate to offer an ice pack.

“Just an accident, is all,” Fitz told her, fiddling with the prototype. “I was at the bar with...with...the others, and this drunk bloke, he, uh, he elbowed me in the face.” His voice lowered to an almost inaudible mumble. “Doesn’t hurt or anything. No need to fuss.”

Jemma put her hand on his shoulder, hoping he’s knew that she was trying to give him comfort, not pity. “I’m so sorry, Fitz.” Fitz reached across his chest to cover her hand with his.

Fitz held up a compact cylinder with his other hand. “I’m working on a, uh, second power surger,” he told her. “Just in case.”

“That’s smart,” Jemma smiled at him. “It never hurts to have backups. Just in case.”

Just in case her best friend needed to borrow one for his secret second job as a crime fighter. It was a good idea, really.

After that, Jemma worked on creating backups of _all_ their prototypes while Fitz was out chasing down criminals. She figured it wouldn’t hurt for Fitz to have extra tools at his disposal.

During work, Fitz never commented on how Jemma’s late nights gradually extended to every day of the work week, although he definitely noticed because Knock Out paid her a visit every night. He always came with an excuse - he wanted to check to see how his costume was coming along, he wanted to recommend modifications to the prototypes she lent him based on results in the field, he wanted to brainstorm with her on potential new gadgets they could create to combat frequently encountered problems. But they always managed to exhaust those topics of conversation hours before they actually got around to saying goodnight - or good morning, as it were.

The more evenings they spent together, conversing and sharing tea the way they always had before the accident, the more Jemma forgot to differentiate between Lab Partner Fitz and Superhero Fitz. To her, both were just Best Friend Fitz.

In the months that followed, she kept finding herself telling Lab Partner Fitz, “I was thinking about that idea you had about such and such,” forgetting that the idea was actually shared by Superhero Fitz. Sometimes, Lab Partner Fitz forgot as well and hesitantly stammered his way through the conversation, but on the occasions he did remember, he froze up and claimed that he didn’t know what she was talking about.

It was frustrating, to have one Fitz who shared his thoughts but not his face, and another Fitz who, although he didn’t wear a literal mask, kept a figurative one on at all times. All Jemma wanted was her Fitz back. All of him.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been six months since Jemma started staying late every night just to talk to Night Night Man, and as happy as it made Fitz to be able to spend time with her in this way, it also broke his heart to know that Fitz - Ordinary Fitz - could be replaced in her heart so easily. He was caught between hating Night Night Man (as though they weren’t one and the same - only Fitz could come up with a new breed of self-loathing) and wishing he could spend every moment of every day in that stupid costume, just so he could be the person that Jemma admired and respected.

For this reason, Fitz looked forward to the weekends, if only to escape the cognitive dissonance. Jemma always came over to his apartment on Saturdays with takeaway and a movie, and although Fitz still had trouble talking, they were usually still able to settle into an easy sort of silence as they watched absurdly scientifically-inaccurate movies. It was the only time during the week that he felt like Jemma actually wanted to spend time with _him_ , just him. Ordinary, scrawny, brain-damaged Fitz.

Except that tonight, Jemma was doing that thing they used to do where they provided running commentary on the movie, poking fun at it and pointing out its inaccuracies. He wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted to start this up again all of a sudden, but he had the sneaking suspicion that it was because she had gotten used to the free-flowing conversations she had with Night Night Man and was expecting Fitz to fill in that particular role during her brief time without her newest friend.

“You know,” Jemma mused as they watched Mario Lopez walking around in a lab coat, struggling to wrap his mouth around the syllables of made-up scientific jargon. “I know they’re setting up Sharkadillo to be the winner, but I think Rhinoshark has its own merits as well. Sharkadillo may have an impenetrable armor on his back, but Rhinoshark’s horn could potentially drive through Sharkadillo’s softer underbelly - not to mention he has unusually heightened levels of aggression, don’t you agree? Sometimes the best defense is a good offense.”

“How American of you,” Fitz deadpanned.

Jemma paused and turned to look at him. “In this very specific situation, I mean. I’m not saying that this is applicable in any other context. You know that right?”

Fitz grinned. “D-don’t worry, Jem. The queen’s not coming to revoke your, um, your citizenship.”

“I’m being serious, Fitz,” Jemma insisted. “Sometimes the best defense is being really, really, really careful.”

Fitz furrowed his brow in confusion. Jemma was far more invested in this movie than he had realized. “Um. Yeah. Sure.”

\------------------------------------------------------------

Fitz glanced up at the clock above the door of their lab. He had tried delaying leaving for as long as possible, but Jemma still hadn’t started packing up.

He walked up to her and leaned sideways against the lab bench. “Uh, did you remember about Daisy’s housewarming party tonight?” Fitz asked. “Mack said she told him that she finally tracked down that copy of Sharkalanche. Turns out it was only released in Sweden.”

Jemma glanced up at the clock and grimaced when she saw the time. “Oh, Fitz, I wish I could, but the revisions to our antiserum is taking longer than expected. You should have heard Sitwell in yesterday’s meeting - he was positively horrendous. He didn’t even-”

Fitz held up his hand to halt her words. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to make excuses. He wanted to tell her that he understood if she wanted to spend all her time with _him_ , top-marks, crime-fighting, super-powered hero man. He wanted to tell her that he wished he could be that person for her, that he wanted to be the person who was her true north, who gave her hope when she had none. But the words dried up like sand in his throat, and the only thing he could rasp out was, “Whatever, Jemma.”

Fitz flinched inwardly, knowing that it sounded more harsh and bitter than he intended. But, knowing that he didn’t have the words to fix it, he just turned and walked out the door.

\---------------------------

Jemma frowned as she watched Fitz leave, wondering if he would return as Night Night Man tonight. She hoped he didn’t - she really did have a lot of work to do and he really did deserve a night off with their friends. She was going to miss him, though. 

Not for the first time, she wished he had accepted that promotion to be co-head of the scientific development department with her. Maybe then, the extra hours she worked would be half as long and twice as fun. She really should’ve tried harder to persuade him.

Jemma sighed. What she really should’ve done was told him she loved him before that stupid accident. Maybe then he wouldn’t be struggling so much with his self-esteem. Maybe then, she would be able show him through her actions - with tender touches and kisses and...and other things - just how much he meant to her. That it didn’t matter to her that he was different - that words came to him more slowly, that his right hand occasionally shook. Maybe, if she could do that, he would believe her when she told him that she still thought he was brilliant and talented and wonderful. That he was still the best man she knew.

But she waited too long. She was so secure in her knowledge that he loved her and she loved him and that they would always be together that it didn’t seem to be an issue worth pressing. In her mind, they had all the time in the world, so she wanted to enjoy the period of time they spent flirting and hinting, the insides of her stomach swooping the way it does when you’re standing high up on the precipice of something new. She figured it would happen when it happened. She knew that she was a modern woman and she could have easily asked Fitz out on a date, but she also relished the excitement that came with waking up in the morning and getting dressed just for him, wondering if this would be the day. If this would be the day Fitz would ask her out or tell her he loved her or just grab her and kiss her. 

She knew this much: he still loved her and she still loved him. But she had the feeling that if she told him, he wouldn’t believe her. And she had the feeling that if he told her, she would want to wait to take that next step until he felt comfortable sharing his secret with her. And now, when she felt that swoop in her stomach, it was out of the fear that came with knowing they _didn’t_ have all the time in the world and that Fitz might never know just how much he meant to her.

\--------------------

When Jemma returned to the lab with her dinner the following night, she found Superhero Fitz slumped against the wall next to the window and bleeding from his shoulder.

“Fi..uhh...uck!” Jemma gasped, running over and kneeling next to him. “What happened?”

As Jemma helped him onto one of the stools, Fitz explained how most of the time, he relied on the element of surprise, blasting his enemies with his dendrotoxin pulse before they could attack him. Unfortunately, in this particular situation, there had been too many adversaries, and while Fitz was eventually successful in rendering them all unconscious, one of them had been able to fire off a bullet before getting knocked out.

Jemma sighed. “There’s got to be a better way. You can’t just go in using the same move every time - especially when people know now to be on the lookout for you.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Fitz asked, his American accent decidedly shaky as Jemma dug into his shoulder to remove the bullet. “Brute force? ‘Cause I’m not sure how well that’s going to work.”

Jemma dropped the bloody bullet into a metal tray. “I don’t know,” Jemma admitted. “I just hate the thought of something happening to you.”

Fitz pressed his lips tightly together. “I’ve been learning Krav Maga,” he offered, obviously hoping to ease her worry.

“Have you really?” Jemma asked, impressed. She looked him up and down, studying his body. Fitz squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes,” she murmured, almost to herself. “That does explain a lot.”

Before Fitz could ask what, exactly, it explained, Jemma looked him in the eyes and blurted, “You’ll be careful?”

Fitz maintained her gaze. “I’ll get the job done. _Ouch!_ ” he yelped as Jemma poked him with his first suture far more aggressively than she originally intended.

“Well,” Jemma grit out through her teeth. “You do what you have to.”


	4. Chapter 4

Fitz shut down his computer, eager to return to his flat so he could rest his injured shoulder. While the wound had healed quite nicely, it still hurt to move it sometimes. To his surprise, Jemma started packing up as well.

“You aren’t staying?” he asked.

Jemma shrugged as she wrapped something in brown paper and tied it with string. “I think I’ve been working too much.” She looked up at him. “I was thinking about ordering a pizza and drinking a couple of beers at my flat. Want to join me?”

Fitz raised his eyebrows, unsure as to why she was breaking routine. Did she even think about what would happen if Night Night Man came to visit her and she wasn’t here? “Oh. Uh. Really? You don’t have anything to do here?” he asked.

Jemma rolled her eyes. “I’m quite caught up, thank you very much. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been putting in a lot of extra hours lately.”

“No, I’ve, uh. I’ve noticed,” Fitz assured her, not wanting her to think he was insinuating that she wasn’t working enough because God knows nobody works more than Jemma Simmons. “Just...wasn’t expecting an invitation tonight, I guess.”

“Oh,” Jemma frowned. “Did you have plans with Mack and Hunter?”

“No!” Fitz denied hurriedly, holding out his hands. “I’m free. Pizza sounds great.”

“Great!” Jemma smiled brightly. She set down her wrapped parcel on a stool right next to the window. “Just let me go to the loo and we can be on our way.”

After Jemma left, Fitz rushed to see what Jemma had left on the stool. She had written on the wrapping paper in permanent marker, “For you.” He untied the string and unwrapped the package. It was his costume, good as new. As he hurried to fold it back up, he noticed a second costume still nestled inside the folds of the brown paper.

The sticky note on the second costume said, “A back up. Just in case.”

\----------------------

Jemma and Fitz were on their third beers and their second terrible shark disaster movie when Fitz’s police scanner app went off. To his dismay, the sound caused Jemma to lift her head from where it was nestled into his shoulder. “Was that your phone or mine?” she asked.

“Mine,” Fitz told her. “But it’s nothing.” Fitz lifted his arm and draped it along the back of the couch, hoping that Jemma would get the hint.

Luckily, Jemma was a genius and she leaned back into him immediately. Fitz shifted his arm from the couch to her shoulders, silently thanking the cosmos that Jemma was a cuddly drunk.

Unfortunately, his phone went off again not five minutes later. “Turn it off,” Jemma mumbled drowsily. “It’s just starting to get good.” She gestured towards the television, where a wave of sharks were sliding down the slope of a snowy mountain, chomping on bleach-blonde bikini-clad skiers as they went.

“Okay,” Fitz agreed readily, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. When he looked at it though, he realized that he couldn’t stay, no matter how much he wanted to. He would never forgive himself if something happened to that little girl. He sighed. “Jemma. I should probably get going. I’m completely knackered.”

Jemma just snuggled closer into him. “Just stay here tonight,” she yawned. “It’ll be just like when we were at uni.”

Fitz frowned. “Jemma, I…”

Jemma sat up to look at him, hurt written across her face. “You don’t want to?”

Fitz shook his head slightly. “No, I do. I just...I don’t want to put you out is all.”

Jemma smiled, relieved. “Oh. Well, it’s no problem - you wouldn’t be a bother at all.” She tilted her head onto his shoulder again, turning her attention back to the movie.

Fitz glanced down at Jemma. She was so sleepy already. If only there was something he could do to help her along…

No. He couldn’t. That would be a terrible thing to do.

On the other hand, he couldn’t just abruptly get up and leave. What would she think? How would he even explain himself?

His phone beeped with another alert. He made up his mind.

Fitz lightly rubbed Jemma’s shoulder. “Hey, Jem,” he whispered. “I’m going to get some water from the kitchen. You want anything?”

“Mm-mmm.” She shook her head. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be right back,” Fitz lied, extricating himself from the weight of her body against his. He gently set her head down on the throw pillow leaning against the arm of the couch, knelt next to her, and took her hand in his. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, hoping that repeating it would make it true. He sent a small energy pulse into her hand.

“Sorry, Jemma,” he whispered as her entire body went slack.

He was definitely going to hell.

\--------------------------------

It was two in the morning when Fitz returned to Jemma’s apartment. Every muscle in his body ached and the exhaustion he felt seeped deep into the marrow of his bones, but he couldn’t go home without checking in on her.

Fitz found Jemma right where he left her, on the couch. The television cast a blue glow on her face, making her look otherworldly in her sleep. He knelt next to her. “Jem,” he whispered. “Hey, Jem.” He brushed her hair out of her face and realized that her cheeks were wet.

Jemma’s eyes slowly fluttered open. “Fitz,” she smiled sleepily, her voice soft and sweet. “You’re here.”

Fitz tucked her hair behind her ear. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Jemma reached out to him. Her fingertips grazed a scratch on his face. Fitz flinched. 

“Why’d you leave?” Her trickling murmurs rippled through the amniotic stillness of the room.

Fitz hesitated. “You fell asleep,” he told her.

A tear slowly rolled down the slope of Jemma’s cheek. “You keep leaving.” The timbre of her voice was like that of a viola, full of melancholy, vibrating at a frequency that resonated with the rush of blood thrumming in his veins. “You keep leaving me.” Fitz’s heart clenched.

“I came back, though,” he offered pathetically, knowing that it wasn’t enough. That he would never be enough. “I’ll always come back for you, Jem.” Before she could respond with anything else that would break his heart, he picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to her bed. He set her down gently and pulled her covers over her body.

Jemma reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. “Please stay.”

Fitz was too exhausted to refuse. “Okay.” He climbed in next to her, facing the other direction.

Jemma rolled over, draping her arm over his waist and nuzzling her face between his shoulder blades. “Night night, Fitz.”

\-----------------------------

“I’ve been thinking,” Jemma told Superhero Fitz two nights later, as she injected a lab rat with her latest test serum.

“Congratulations?”

Jemma stuck her tongue out at him. “Shut up.” She put Stuart Little back in his cage. “Have you ever tried to control the span of the dispersal of your energy pulses?”

“Not really,” Fitz shrugged. “I’ve mostly been sticking to what I know works. I don’t want to be in a situation where I lose the element of surprise if I fail to knock them out. Or worse, fire a pulse so strong that I knock someone out for...you know. Forever.”

Jemma removed Fievel from his cage. “I just think that if you were to be in a situation where there were more than two opponents, it would be beneficial for you to send out a pulse with a wider scope. Theoretically, if you maintained the energy pulse for long enough, you’d be able to knock everyone in the room out.”

“Theoretically,” Fitz reminded her. “There’s no way to test that hypothesis, though. And what if it results in a shorter period of unconsciousness? There’s too many variables to consider.”

“Test it on me,” Jemma suggested as she injected Fievel. “In here.”

Fitz froze. “First of all, no.” 

Jemma resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, lest they get stuck that way. Sometimes she couldn’t get over how ridiculous Fitz was. He’d only considered it for all of two seconds and he already sounded guilty about it. 

“Second of all, you’re one person, which is not helpful if we’re trying to test its effects on multiple people,” Fitz pointed out. “And third of all...no.”

Jemma returned Fievel to his cage. “At the very least, we can test how long you would need to hold the pulse for and how long I stay unconscious.”

“Jemma,” Fitz groaned. “I am not going to knock you unconscious. Especially not in this lab.”

“I trust you,” Jemma told him, trying to infuse as much sincerity as possible into her voice.

“You shouldn’t,” he said darkly.

Jemma wasn’t an idiot - she could see the truth in that. After all, he’d been lying to her for the better part of a year. But she knew his heart, and she knew that even though he makes mistakes, he makes them trying to do the right thing. He makes them out of love and compassion, out of a desire to help and protect others. And she knew his mind, and she knew that even though he often doubts himself, he’s capable of doing anything he sets his mind to.

“Well,” she said. “I do anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...so this chapter turned out a lot less funny and a lot more angsty than my usual stuff...sorry?
> 
> We're coming up to the end!


	5. Chapter 5

There was a bomb in their building.

The police came and tried to evacuate everyone in their headquarters, but Jemma saw Fitz, dressed in his costume, running in the opposite direction as everyone else. This awful wave of fear washed over her. It was last year all over again. It was _her_ Fitz in _their_ lab and _his_ life on the line. There was no way she was going to let him get hurt again.

Jemma broke away from the crowd and followed him. She paused outside their lab door, and after a moment’s deliberation, ran in to grab their dendrotoxin gun prototype, just in case. She walked back into the hallway and stopped short. She had no idea where to go. She had no idea where the bomb was, no idea where Fitz was, no idea how much time they had left. She took out her phone. It’s a good thing she had planted a tracker in Fitz’s costume.

\-------------------------------

“What are you doing here?” Fitz shouted when Jemma entered the room. He had never felt so angry in his life.

“If you think I’m letting you do this alone, you’re mad,” Jemma informed him. “Now move over.”

She knelt next to him, and together, they focused on the tangle of wires and the large red numbers ticking down to zero.

“Why can’t it be like the movies?” Fitz grumbled, wishing it were as simple as making a single snip in the correct colored wire.

They heard footsteps running in the corridor outside and Fitz started to turn around. “Continue working on this,” he told her. “I’ll take care of them.”

Jemma put her hand on his shoulder. “No, you need to do this. This is your area of expertise, not mine.” She took a gun out of her back pocket. “I’ve got the Night Night Gun. I’ll be fine.”

Fitz did a double take. “Did you just call that the Night Night Gun?” he asked. She hated it when he called it the Night Night Gun.

“You’ll be careful.” It was a request, but she said it like an order. She swiftly leaned forward, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and ran out into the corridor.

\-------------------

They celebrated staying alive by toasting with glasses of scotch in the lab. “I can’t believe we did that,” Fitz breathed, leaning his side against their lab bench.

Jemma took another sip. “I can,” she said, leaning forward next to him with her forearms flat on the table. “You’re brilliant. I’m brilliant. Not to mention that together, we’re greater than the sum of our parts.” She tried not to think about how she would like some of his parts inside of some of her parts.

“Thank you, for what you did,” Fitz told her. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”

Jemma set her glass down and turned to face Fitz, the combined force of liquor and leftover adrenaline making her braver than usual. She put her hands on his shoulders. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you,” she told him. “You’re my best friend in the world.” And then, not thinking about how Fitz was still wearing his costume, not thinking about how Fitz still didn’t realize that she knew it was him under that mask, not thinking about how she vowed not to do anything until Fitz revealed his secret, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

\-----------------------------

Fitz froze. He put his hands on her upper arms and gently pulled away from her. “Jemma. We can’t.” Fitz looked down, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach. He felt guilty for lying to her, but at the same time, unbelievably hurt that he had been usurped as her best friend by...himself.

It struck him that his relationship with Jemma had gotten entirely too complicated. He’s essentially been carrying on two friendships with her at the same time. He’s been pretending he’s someone he’s not, both in and out of the suit. He couldn’t keep doing this. It would ruin them.

“Jemma, you don’t really know me. I have to - I have to tell you…” Fitz stammered. “I’m...I…” Fitz sighed. “I should go.”

As Fitz walked past Jemma towards the door, he felt her hand firmly wrap around his wrist. “Don’t you dare leave, Fitz.” She sounded like a simmering volcano about to erupt into tears.

The sound of his name hovered in the air between them, like dandelion tufts drifting in the wind before settling to the ground. Fitz slowly turned around. “How long have you known?” he whispered.

Jemma rolled her eyes. “I’ve _always_ known, Fitz. You weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

Fitz shook his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Jemma crossed her arms over her chest. “Why didn’t _you_ say anything?” she shot back, accusingly. “And what’s more than that, Fitz, why did you lie to me? Repeatedly?”

Fitz quickly looked behind him at the closed door and hissed, “Would you stop saying my name? What if someone hears?”

“I’m pretty sure that everyone who works in this building knows,” Jemma told him flippantly. “I mean, come on, Fitz. Night Night Man? Not only did you create the Night Night Gun, you are literally the only person who calls it that. It’s like you weren’t even trying to hide your identity.”

“And _nobody_ said anything?” Fitz asked incredulously.

Jemma threw her hands in the air. “It wasn’t our place, Fitz!” She wrapped her hands around her neck. “You obviously wanted it to be a secret, and you obviously didn’t want to talk about it, so why would we bring it up?”

“Well, _you_ should have brought it up so that I knew I didn’t have to keep lying to you!”

Jemma’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing into angry slits. “Well, _you_ should have never _started_ lying to me in the first place!”

Fitz and Jemma stared at each other for a few moments in a silent standoff. Fitz was the first to blink. “I’m sorry, Jemma,” he said weakly. “I am. You’re right - I shouldn’t have kept it from you. It’s just that...I wanted to see if I could do it on my own, you know? I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t broken and useless. And then by the time I realized that I really should have told you from the beginning, I was just so embarrassed that I kept it from you for so long, and I knew you would feel so hurt, so I just kept putting it off.”

Fitz shook his head, looking down at the ground. “And then you and Night Night Man started getting along so well...how could I tell you that it was just me, behind that mask? You liked spending time with him and talking to him...you liked him better than me - you _just said_ he was your best friend in the world.” He looked up at her, making eye contact. “And you thought he was a hero - brave and strong and everything I’m not. How could I disappoint you like that?”

Jemma suddenly turned around and took three large steps away from him, letting out a violently exasperated groan. “Fitz!” She whirled around. “I said that _you’re_ my best friend! Because you are! And this past year, you just kept pulling away from me and shutting me out, and I missed you! So _of course_ I liked spending time with Knock Out!”

“Night Night Man,” Fitz quietly corrected her.

Jemma glared at him. “That’s not helping.”

“Sorry,” Fitz muttered.

Jemma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Fitz,” she said, much more gently. She opened her eyes. “You dismantled a bomb today. You didn’t have to use your powers or your gadgets - you didn’t even need to be wearing your costume. The person who saved all our lives today?” Jemma took a step towards him and reached forward to take his hand. “That wasn’t Night Night Man. That was _you._ ” She looked into his eyes. “ _You’re_ the hero, Fitz.”

Fitz smiled, a surge of pride rushing through him. “You really think so?” And then it hit him…

“Wait. So all those nights you flirted with me in the lab, you knew it was me?”

“Well…” Jemma shrugged. “Yeah.”

Fitz frowned and dropped her hand. “So what was that then? You were trying to shake me out?”

The expression on Jemma’s face transformed from apprehension to her more familiar look of exasperation. “Ugh, Fitz! I was treating you the way I’ve _always_ treated you.”

“That’s not true!” Fitz shot back. “Before this, you’ve never tried to feel up my...you know…” He gestured vaguely around his groin. “My bits.

Jemma blushed furiously and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I’ve never had an excuse before now, did I?” she pointed out, somehow managing to sound logical and embarrassed at the same time.

Fitz felt like he had all the puzzle pieces needed to figure out what was going on but couldn’t think clearly enough to fit them together into a clear picture. “So when you kissed me just now...you were kissing me...as me?

Jemma dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “I mean...well. Yes.”

“But…” Fitz furrowed his brow. “But _why_?”

Jemma gave him a look of disbelief. “You are literally a rocket scientist. What do you think?”

Fitz reached back in his mind, past his memories of this last year, going all the way back to freshman pranks and late night study sessions, movie marathons and sleepovers with blanket forts, to graduations and holidays and funerals. He thought about the moment he realized she had been beside him the whole damn time and he thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d had one of those moments, too.

“Jemma,” he said slowly. “Since we’re being honest with each other, there’s another secret I’ve been keeping from you.”

Jemma furrowed her brow. “Is there?”

Fitz nodded. “I know you just told me that I’m your best friend, but to me...you’re more than that.” He took a deep breath. “I’m in love with you,” he confessed. “I have been for a very long time.”

Jemma shook her head and gave him an affectionate smile. “You ridiculous man.” She took another step towards him. “I know,” she told him. “I’ve always known.”

Jemma reached up to Fitz’s face, rolling his mask off and dropping it to the floor. Her smile disappeared, replaced by a look of curiosity. Her fingertips traced along his hairline, then dropped to graze against the stubble on his jaw, achingly slow in its movements. “There he is,” she murmured fondly.

“Who?” Fitz whispered.

“The man I love.”

This time, when Jemma leaned forward to kiss Fitz, he kissed her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Tumblr! I have no idea how to use it! Wanna be my Yoda? I'm Lalallicat over there!
> 
> I'll probably update this every other day, if not every day.
> 
> Comments and constructive feedback are welcome and appreciated :)


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